


Swimming With the Sharks Until We Drown

by coldishcase, zara2148



Series: Praying for the Wicked on the Weekend [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Crimson Dawn (Star Wars), Darth Maul Needs a Hug, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Enemies to Lovers, Hints of Hondo/Obiwan but that’s mostly Hondo lying to make a profit, Identity Porn, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Innuendo, Love Bites, M/M, Past ObiTine, Possessive Behavior, Surprise Kissing, although from Maul’s POV it’s strangers to lovers, awkward situations caused by assumed identities, but like he’s probably legitimately crushing on Obiwan as well, hints of an unhealthy relationship, it gets better later! but…
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28938891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldishcase/pseuds/coldishcase, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zara2148/pseuds/zara2148
Summary: Love is in the air, but lies are weighing it down. Ben Kenobi can't keep up his act forever.Five times Maul, lord of Crimson Dawn, missed that he's dating Obi-Wan, and the one time he didn't.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Hondo Ohnaka, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul
Series: Praying for the Wicked on the Weekend [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872874
Comments: 71
Kudos: 144





	1. The Clock Just Makes the Colors Turn to Grey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Just_a_Loth_Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_a_Loth_Cat/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zara: So, here we go... the first chapter of the big revelation fic. Whoo!
> 
> Remember “Putting out the Lantern”? And how a lot of you liked the relaxed vibe? Well, this chapter started off as what the story would lead into before I realized it was an almost too massive tone shift. Yes, this is me basically ripping apart “Putting out the Lantern” in front of your eyes. Enjoy~! 
> 
> Trigger warnings for one partner threatening another. Mild references to M&A by Claudia Gray and the Jedi Apprentice series, but it should still be understandable without that background. 
> 
> Also this is unbetaed and may be tweaked later. Rating may go up in later chapters.

Obi-Wan wakes to an empty but still warm bed, the smell of brewed caf in the air. The bedroom is caught in space’s perpetual night, but a soft “Lights” illuminates his surroundings.

He stretches, careful of the developing bruises dotting his neck, his chest, his ribs, his thighs. Maul was quite thorough when marking him last night. Apparently, there was some truth to “ _ Absence makes the heart grow fonder. _ ” Though perhaps the saying could do with an addendum specifying how absence also made one more relentless and merciless when it came to bedroom matters.

Not that Obi-Wan is complaining. Such ferocity has its appeal. There’s a pleasant ache to his body, reminiscent of the cooled adrenaline that follows a successful sparring session.

He slips out of bed, dressing in simple pants and a light, hip-length tunic that doesn’t require an undershirt. Suitably attired now, he leaves to join Maul at their dining table. There’s a cup of tea at his usual spot, while Maul has his standard cup of plain caf.

“Good morning,” he says as he presses a kiss to Maul’s forehorn, the closest he can come to a traditional forehead kiss. Maul’s hand snaps up to grab his retreating chin, the touch firm without being harsh, and guides him down for a kiss on the lips.

The kiss isn’t quite as intense as last night’s activities. But it’s enough to send Obi-Wan’s brain into a pleasant daze, coaxing a soft moan from him as Maul pulls him close.

“Mmm, and getting better,” Obi-Wan lets a hint of a purr slip into his tone as they break apart, traces of post-coital affection still lingering. He moves away and takes his seat.

The cup of tea warms his hand as he drinks it, more for a familiar routine than out of a need for a morning boost. As he sips his tea, he debates what he wants for breakfast. The station’s droids are capable of producing a wide array of dishes, and he’s feeling indecisive this morning. He's still staggered by the number of choices he has now, after years of eating only what was cheap and what he could hunt in the desert, with good nutrition and taste an afterthought.

His mind is still focused on food when he absently asks, “So how was your meeting with the other heads?”

“Productive.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “Do try to give me something more than a one-word response. See how I can string words together to form entire sentences?” He can accept Maul’s tendency toward terseness, but really. Some effort at description would be nice. 

“Here’s a set of questions to challenge you,” he says, affecting the tone he used with younglings. “Where did you go? What was the weather like? What did you discuss there? Any memorable sights you’d care to dwell upon?”

Maul’s lips curl, a mischievous brightness in his eyes. He counts off his answers pointedly on his fingers.

“Sand. Politics. Dry.”

Perhaps Maul pauses then, perhaps it’s merely the world holding its breath.

“Mandalore.”

That last word echoes inside Obi-Wan’s head. _ Mandalore… Mandalore…. Mandalore…. _

Dizziness settles over him as the blood rushes out of his face, leaving him pale and weak. His innards feel watery, his breathing coming as if he’s sprouted a puncture and everything inside him is leaking out.

The happiness from yesterday turns sour in his mouth, exacerbated by the tea’s lingering bitterness. The cup remains tight in his grip, though he no longer feels its warmth.

_ You are playing house with Satine’s _ **_murderer_ ** _. _

It’s a thought Obi-Wan can no longer shy away from, and it hits with the impact of a Star Destroyer, the resulting sonic boom loud enough to drown out the pleased and pleasant hum of the Force. 

Maul’s voice sounds as if he’s speaking from a great distance. “Ben?” Obi-Wan can almost hear the brow furrowing in confusion.

A tremble moves through his hand as he sets the cup down. Then he stands, surprised at how steady his legs feel.

“Forgive me,” he begins, “I just remembered an urgent matter I have to take care of.” Even as Obi-Wan says it, he knows he’s not convincing. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t try to make it better.

In the brief glance he manages, he sees that Maul’s eyes have gone wide, clearly thrown by this sudden turn of events. He feels a shameful guilt settle inside him at being with Maul and at hurting him.

Obi-Wan’s walk to their door is swift yet controlled, masquerading as true calm. He does not see Maul reach for him as he turns away, before aborting the gesture and letting the hand fall to the table. But he feels its echo in the Force.

Once he’s in the outer halls, he reaches out to the Force for a boost of speed, spurring himself into a measured run. His senses are not so gone that he blindly rushes away; instead, he falls back on the mental map he’s devised, seeking a dark, seldom used corridor where he is unlikely to be disturbed.

When he reaches it, he collapses to the floor in a haphazard sitting position, drawing his knees close. Alone now, his body shudders and surrenders to the memories welling up… how Satine’s eyes widened as the Darksaber pierced her body, only to dim as her spirit faded and her body cooled in his arms...

_ “I will make you share my pain.” _

He can feel himself spiraling, his mind unable to disengage from the past. His breathing escapes him in harsh pants, his gaze unseeing. How much time passes in this state, he does not know.

A brush against his consciousness, the touch filled with love and concern, draws him out enough to reflect on his surroundings. He looks up to see the spectral figure of Qui-Gon Jinn.

“My padawan, have you forgotten your breathing exercises?” he chides gently, no true censure in his tone.

“No,” Obi-Wan manages before he falls into the regimented breathing exercises used to ready the mind and body for a meditation session. In, out, in, out… Qui-Gon’s chest moves in time with his, though he’s beyond any need for breathing. 

As he runs through the series of carefully timed inhales and exhales, Obi-Wan feels his body moving back under his control. His inner being remains unsettled but is no longer in complete disarray.

Qui-Gon does not smile at him, but there’s a gleam of pleased contentment in his eyes. “Now, padawan, I think you are in a better state to tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I am, thank you.” He truly does feel like Qui-Gon’s padawan again. Sitting in the dark until he’s found and comforted like a small child. 

Obi-Wan takes another deep breath before continuing. “Master, I find myself in need of guidance. I am... conflicted over my feelings for Maul and Satine.”

“I see,” Qui-Gon’s spectral body moves into a cross-legged sitting position. “Would you describe your feelings for me?”

Obi-Wan knows he cannot run from his emotions. He must face them and subdue them, not suppress them until they grow into something he cannot manage. Still, it is difficult to confide his weakness, to overcome the fear that he will be found wanting.

It always is. Yet, he must keep moving forward, and this is one way to do so.

“It is a sense of guilt and renewed grief that troubles me.” A sigh. “I find myself wondering what Satine would say to me, if she could see me now. If she would consider what I’ve done a betrayal… after everything that happened on Mandalore.”

“Would Satine truly resent your compassion? Or begrudge you any happiness that you found?”

_ I don’t deserve happiness _ flits across his mind, swatted away before it could fully coalesce. 

“She might if she knew where I found it,” he says instead. Doing this to secure Luke’s future had been one thing — Satine would understand the drive to protect a child, unorthodox though his methods were in a galaxy gone mad.

Feeling fondness for her murderer… was another thing entirely.

Qui-Gon’s voice develops a far-off tone. “I remember how the two of you acted around each other. You were not subtle in the slightest about your interest in each other.” His eyes are distant, as if the past replayed itself before his eyes. Perhaps it did.

“We were barely more than younglings, then,” Obi-Wan agrees, allowing the conversation to take a new direction .  “We knew the galaxy could be harsh and unfair, but we still had such faith in our convictions. That with time and effort, we could make things right.” How the galaxy had changed beyond what those two children could imagine.

Qui-Gon’s tone remains serene as he continues reminiscing. “Do you remember what I always told you as my apprentice?”

"You had a collection of sayings you relished quoting at me." While true, it’s a verbal dodge and Obi-Wan knows it. He can guess which of his master’s favored sayings he’s referring to.

Qui-Gon's raised eyebrow tells him he is not fooled, nor would he let him off so easily.

Obi-Wan sighs wearily, and says, "’ _ People are more than the worst thing they've done, and more than the worst thing done to them _ .’ I remember, master."

He leans his head back against the durasteel wall, his eyes slipping closed. “I forgave Maul for his actions long ago. He was in pain, and the only way he could imagine overcoming that pain was if I suffered too.”

He sighs again. “But I cannot lie to myself and say that he’s a different, better man now. He’s hardly changed from who he was then.” Still angry, still steeped in the dark side. Still directly responsible for so much suffering.

“Can you not? Have you truly observed no changes or growth in the time you’ve spent with him?”

No, he could not say that. Not when he remembers the awkward welcome home from yesterday, the tea made for him this morning. In small ways, Maul is learning to be considerate. But was that enough?

Qui-Gon continues relentlessly, even as his voice never breaks from its soothing cadence. “Do you need the approval of Satine to live your life? Have you before? Have you never, in your life, done something she fundamentally disagreed with?”

“You know the answer to that. You witnessed many of our fiercest arguments.” Another sigh. “And you must also know that when I became a general, she was not shy in expressing her disapproval.”

Obi-Wan shifts away from the wall, his back straight. “I know I cannot live my life wondering if Satine would approve of my actions. But I remain unsure if I am doing the right thing. Trusting the Force brought me here, but…” He trails off, unsure how to continue.

“But though we are luminous beings, we are also beings of matter, prone to occasional distrust of the Force that binds us together.” Qui-Gon still knows him well enough to hear what he cannot confess. “Even the best and wisest of us question its will at one time or another.” 

Qui-Gon falls silent for a moment, traces of shame finding their way into his face. “Do you remember our first meeting dear one, how I struggled against the will of the Force that we partner together?”

Obi-Wan nods. “Yes, I do.” His voice holds no resentment, only understanding. 

Unlike Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon does not need to draw breath for strength. Yet his face somehow gives the impression that he would if he could. “I am aware my indecision and resistance there caused you much pain. Pain that we would have avoided if I trusted the Force more.” 

His voice softened without losing any of its natural surety. “If I had not refused to see  _ you _ clearly because of my preoccupation with another.”

Qui-Gon has never truly apologized for his actions then, and as a (with hindsight, insecure) youngling, Obi-Wan had not thought he needed to. It was not his master’s way to apologize, and he accepted that. 

He didn’t doubt his master’s esteem for him, not anymore. But it was different to hear his thoughts directly instead of feeling an impression of them through the Force.

Instead of saying any of that and potentially embarrassing his master, Obi-Wan indulges in the chance to tease the man. “Master, did you just call yourself the best and wisest of us?”

“No, I leave such praise to my young Padawan.” Qui-Gon’s face settles into an almost perfect study in indifference, refusing to be ruffled. Only the glint in his eyes gives the game away.

Obi-Wan can’t keep himself from smiling, even as Qui-Gon continues seriously. “Obi-Wan, don’t let the darkness and pain of the past blind you to the potential in the present. Satine is not gone, not truly. Her existence merely persists in another form, as part of the eternal Force now.”

“‘ _ There is no death, there is only the Force, _ ’” Obi-Wan quotes softly.

“Yes, listen to the Force again. What does it tell you?”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes, stretching his awareness beyond himself. He feels a small part of the swirls and eddies that make up the galaxy, the ties between all beings. A windy path stretches ahead of him, twisting too much for him to see the end of it. Yet the steps he traces forward feel light, for all the uncertainty that still lies ahead.

He opens his eyes and meets Qui-Gon’s. “What it has since the beginning. I am where I was meant to be.”

Qui-Gon blesses him with a soft smile. “That is good, then. The Force is never wrong.”

“Yes.” He inclines his head forward in acknowledgment. “Forgive me, Master, but this is an old conflict. My feelings for her, and my duty to the Force.”

“You eventually chose duty, did you not?”

“Yes, she and I both did.”

“ _ Remember, my dear Obi-Wan. No matter what, don’t let go of what you believe in. I never did. _ ”

Satine wouldn’t have wanted any violence committed in her name, even against her killer. And though their choices and convictions had kept them apart, their lives had not been unhappy because of it. His life with the Jedi and his time with Anakin, Ahsoka, Cody and the rest of the 212th had fulfilled him, kept his life from feeling empty. 

He found happiness outside of Satine back then. Perhaps he might do so again, without compromising on who he was. 

Obi-Wan stands up with a slight wince, his knees and back feeling stiff from spending so long on a cold, metal floor. Even with his limbs aching, he manages to sketch a rough bow. “Thank you, Master Qui-Gon, for your wisdom and advice. I… still have much to think about, but my path forward feels clearer now.”

Qui-Gon inclines his head forward. “I am, as always, with you.”

“I know, and thank you.” One final sigh as his master disappears from his view. “And now I must think on what I’ll tell Maul this evening,” he mutters as he begins the walk back. The Zabrak undoubtedly had left their apartment to attend to the many duties that necessitated his presence.

_ I hope he had a proper breakfast before leaving.  _ Obi-Wan couldn’t hold back a snort at the thought, grounded in his suspicion that Maul would live off ration bars if left entirely to himself. 

Yet as the door to their rooms opens, Obi-Wan catches an unknown, staticky voice. The mechanical filter of a comlink, the sound tinny and muffled. “Still no sign of him, sir.”

He hears Maul’s smooth voice before he sees him. “Keep the hangers locked down.” A huff of exasperation. “And bring him to me  _ unharmed _ if you find him.”

Maul is at their table, no longer peacefully sitting. He’s standing, looking every inch the hardened crime boss commanding a syndicate. Agitated energy bleeds out of him, clearly only just restrained within his body. 

Golden eyes flick up to meet his own. There’s something there stiffer than surprise but not unlike it. A flash of vulnerability, before he falls back into the role of crime lord. Maul presses a button on the comlink, ending the call abruptly. 

“You’re still here,” Obi-Wan breathes, truly surprised. He’s well aware how extensive Maul’s list of daily duties is — Maul does not believe in being an idle ruler.

If he were a different sort of man, Maul might have shrugged at him. “You left quite suddenly.”

“And you didn’t come after me.” Obi-Wan would think he would be glad about that, but there’s a trace of unexpected hurt at the thought. It’s unfair to Maul, and he’s not sure how he would have reacted if the man  _ had _ pursued him.

“It seemed to be me you wanted to get away from.” A stilted, cool tone.

He has made a mess of things, hasn’t he? Obi-Wan moves closer to the table. He’s not ready to sit down, though, and makes no move for his chair. “You really locked down the hangers?” He cocks his head. “Did I seem that distressed?”

Maul raises an eye ridge at him but doesn't answer. He hardly needs to.

“I suppose I couldn’t have been trusted to fly in that state,” he continues, sidestepping the implied possessiveness and abandonment issues for now. Best not to mention how a few guards wouldn’t be enough to stop him if he had been determined to leave.

“I know I ran out of here suddenly. I’m sorry if I worried you by doing so.” He slides back into his seat, idly noting how Maul didn’t bother to clear their drinks, their contents now cooled and forgotten.

He takes a sip from the chilled tea anyway, fortifying himself. “It… was the mention of Mandalore that threw me.”

He could come clean now, but that order to shut down the hangers hangs between them. Affection may have grown between them, but trust… trust has not.

What he says next is not a lie, but it is only a partial truth.

“It brought back memories of the Siege of Mandalore.” And the rise of the Empire, he does not say. “I wasn’t there, but it affected me nonetheless.”

Golden eyes narrow, refusing to leave him as Maul retakes his seat. Good, he’s willing to hear Obi-Wan out then.

“I lost so many people that last day.” Some of the tension leaves Obi-Wan’s shoulders as he speaks about what he’s never had the chance to tell anyone else. “Many to death, but others…. Others I suspect survived but I haven’t been able to track them down, scattered to the winds as we all were.” 

Cody and the rest of the 212th…Ahsoka... He couldn't risk the attention to himself and Luke, so he settled into the uncertainty of not knowing their fates. 

Maul’s face remains stoic, too conditioned to give a tell. But there’s something in the eyes that hints at the feeling Obi-Wan catches echoing across the Force. An awkward consternation, thinking he knows something that Obi-Wan does not.

“I know you were involved,” he says, before Maul has a chance to think of a response. “I knew that even before I agreed to come with you.” His wan smile lacks any true happiness. “I told you that I researched you.”

He hears the inevitable question before it can be spoken, less prescience and more learned familiarity.  _ “So why did you agree to come with me?” _

“I came with you because you offered me something I couldn’t refuse. I didn’t really expect it to become more on my part.” That part tastes too much like a lie, even for this tale he’s spinning, so he corrects himself. “Or rather, I didn't want it to become more on my end.”

His tone grows more subdued. “When I realized I felt something for you that I didn’t expect to feel… it frightened me.”

“I’ve grown fond of you,” he says honestly. “And the more time I’ve spent with you, the further away Mandalore seems.”

Obi-Wan hasn’t looked away from Maul’s eyes once, and doesn’t do so now. “I know who you are. I know what you’ve done. I am here with you, nonetheless.”

He sits there, the words in him run out. Neither of them moves or speak then, silence all too eager to rush in and come between them.

But eventually, a tattooed hand reaches out. This time, it completes its journey and closes around Obi-Wan’s wrist.

The hand tugs at him, and Obi-Wan is feeling boneless enough to mindlessly follow it out of his chair. He’s pulled into Maul’s lap. Warm arms wrap around him. His head settles on Maul’s shoulder, and a contented sigh escapes him.

Maul’s voice is a whispered hiss in his ear. “Why should I keep someone who has admitted to a potential motive for betrayal at my side?”

It takes less than a second for the threat to register. Obi-Wan instinctively tries to move away, but tattooed arms tighten around him. Denying him another chance to flee Maul. 

His heart races. He tells himself it’s solely from adrenaline. To think he was admiring Maul’s ferocity earlier, ignoring how swiftly it could turn for the worst.

One of Maul’s hands is a finger length from Obi-Wan’s hair. It closes the distances, and instead of carding through his locks as normal, the hand closes around his hair with a harsh tug that falls just shy of pain.

He could die here, Obi-Wan realizes. Even if he calls upon the Force for assistance, it might not be enough. He may be at peace with his inevitable death, but dying now would leave Luke’s future uncertain and the galaxy in bad straits.

Maul uses the hold to pull his head up, forcing Obi-Wan to meet his eyes. There’s a questioning cant to Maul’s head, paired with a raised eye ridge. “Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

There’s a hint of sadistic smugness, but his voice is mostly consumed by an honest query. It sinks in that Maul isn’t necessarily going to kill him. If he were, there would probably be an ignited lightsaber at Obi-Wan’s throat right about now.

Obi-Wan takes a breath, his thoughts racing ahead of his mouth."If my character isn't enough to convince you, let me ask you this. What good would it do me to betray you?" 

He can’t look away from Maul, doesn’t even try to. “Let’s first consider the practical considerations. You are protected by a squadron of guards ready to jump at your command.” He raises an eyebrow for emphasis, mirroring Maul. “But I sincerely doubt you need any of them. Leaving aside your documented battle prowess during the Clone Wars, I’ve caught fearful whispers here of your speed, your mastery of weapons, and your deadly arcane powers.” 

Perhaps he was buttering up Maul’s ego a bit much, but truly, could it hurt now?... well, perhaps, if Maul decided the flattery was too sycophantic.

“ _ Vos _ has warned me against pushing you too far, although probably not out of concern for me.” The man simply understood that an angry Maul might be indiscriminate in his rage. “So direct confrontation is out unless I’m interested in painful suicide.”

Maul’s grip has loosened enough for him to shift into a more comfortable position. “Of course, there are underhanded and indirect tactics, but I doubt I will succeed there either. I have no hope of swaying your lieutenants to my side for a coup. I am tolerated as some sort of pet at best, one capable of a few clever tricks, and resented as an interloper and competition at worst.”

A position not helped by Maul subtly encouraging his lieutenants’ infighting, in a classic Sith move. Less chance of being overthrown if your subordinates focused on taking out each other first. 

Maul seems to take a particularly vicious amusement in watching Obi-Wan’s aggressive, sarcastic negotiating skills at work. He sometimes glances at Maul when he’s caught up in an argument with Vos, and often finds him smirking at his take-downs and deconstructions of Vos’s logic.

“This is  **_your_ ** stronghold, not mine. Outside of you, I am alone here.” Obi-Wan gestures to the discarded comlink on the table. “I cannot even try to leave without someone alerting you.”

“And as for emotional considerations… killing or hurting you won’t bring my loved ones back. It won’t bring me any closure or satisfaction.” He dares to tell a little more of the truth. “ _ That _ , I know from firsthand experience.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing. “However, staying here with you, working with and helping you… it lets me protect the few precious people I have left.” He debates mentioning that’s a category Maul is slowly sliding his way into, but decides against it. It’s likely to ring as insincere flattery to Maul’s ears.

“But I understand that this partnership of ours can’t function without a measure of trust. If you’ve lost faith in me as a partner, then let me go.” A pause. "Or kill me, as I know the far likelier fate is."

He’s almost certain his death is not what Maul wants. Almost. If it was a serious consideration, then why is he not already dead? 

Still, it doesn’t stop his heart from hammering as he continues. “Before you do, though, I would argue that you made the decision to trust me weeks ago when you took a man you barely knew anything about off of Tatooine.” Looking Maul directly in the eyes, Obi-Wan wills him to understand what he’s saying. “We’re just re-evaluating what that trust means at this point.”

The room falls back into silence, though Obi-Wan’s heartbeat rushes in and fills his ears. Neither of them is breathing noticeably, caught as they are in a timeless moment. Though the grip on his hair has slackened further, Obi-Wan still can’t bring himself to look away from Maul, who’s remained stone-faced throughout his speech.

Then the silence breaks from deep, dark laughter as Maul throws his head back, positively howling. Obi-Wan feels the laughter vibrating through his body, close as he is.

It takes a few moments for Maul to regain his composure, his form subsiding back into stillness, though hints of a wild grin linger around his mouth and eyes.

“I do understand your character,” he says calmly, though his voice is still brimming with traces of mad laughter. “You have  _ honor _ ,” he says the word like it’s something he would scrape off his foot, “along with the intelligence to realize your position.”

Obi-Wan feels fingers stroking his back and head. “And you do seem the type to get attached easily,” Maul continues.

Pity it’s a poor time to retort how he’s not the one yearning for an old enemy bad enough to settle for a facsimile. Best to let Maul have the last word here.

Obi-Wan exhales and says instead, “You’re keeping me around, then?”

“Evidently.”

“And this little bit of drama you coaxed from me, its purpose was what, exactly?” Aside from aging him a few years in a handful of minutes.

Maul’s fingers continue to absentmindedly play with his hair. “I was...  _ curious  _ about what you would say.”

“Expecting me to beg for my life, were you?” Obi-Wan can’t quite keep the irritation out of his voice.

A throaty chuckle escapes Maul’s throat. With its deep, rich sound it would sound pleasant in other circumstances. “I’m rather pleased you didn’t.”

“It reminds you of him, doesn’t it?” Obi-Wan tries not to dwell on how well he’s adapted to referring to his past self in the third person.

Instead of answering with words, Maul presses close and steals a kiss, his hand still tangled in Obi-Wan’s hair. Punishing lips seize him, softened by a hint of coaxing tongue to further break down resistance. As if Maul is determined to ravage his way into Obi-Wan’s body and mind, carving out an emptiness only he can fill.

Obi-Wan yields, his lips slackening and his form going pliant. He catches a pleased hum, and something still anxious inside him unknots. He lifts his arms and brings them around Maul’s shoulders, confident now that his touch won’t be rejected or thrown off.

He has to swallow harsh mouthfuls of air when Maul finally releases his mouth. Their faces remain close together, his hair still caught in an unrelenting grip. 

Maul breathes deeply through his nose, his lips curling in satisfaction.

“You no longer reek of fear, _ Kenobi _ .” Maul’s voice doesn’t rise above a hoarse whisper. Yet the words sound overly loud, and only partly because of their closeness.

Perhaps he is better off not asking what he does smell of.

“It does make you more convincing, that spark of hatred you hold for me,” Maul says absently, finally answering his question.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, but the statement goes ignored. Judged a lie or irrelevant to Maul’s fantasy, perhaps.

“I suppose I should apologize for kissing you without warning,” Maul continues, once more switching conversational tracks. “The moment was one I couldn’t let pass.”

“Apology accepted.” He wishes he could summon up some annoyance at the surprise kiss, but his thoughts still feel scattered. From a minor case of air deprivation, surely.

Maul’s fingers play with the tie of his tunic, twining around it without pulling. “May I?”

Obi-Wan hesitates. A “ _ no _ ” would be respected, but what would it gain him to deny Maul? Nothing. Not even personal satisfaction.

“You may,” he concedes, bringing his arms back to his sides.

With a swift tug of the tie, the sleeves of his tunic slip down and expose his shoulders. Maul’s hands push it to continue its downward journey, leaving the fabric to puddle forgotten on the floor.

The bruises from yesterday’s activities lay bare. Reds had darkened into deeper purples, with a few approaching a washed-out bluish color. A smile finds its way onto Maul’s face as his hand lets go of Obi-Wan’s hair, moving over his shoulder and traveling down Obi-Wan’s chest. His other hand reaches up, cupping Obi-Wan’s chin so their eyes lock. The touch is light but firm, strong enough to keep him from moving away unless he truly fights it.

Maul’s fingertips trace the path his mouth followed the previous night, skimming lightly enough to feel pleasant instead of painful. Abdominal muscles flutter under his touch.

Obi-Wan watches Maul’s smile widen. He feels the fingers dip lower, sketching idle circles just above his pants hemline.

"You're mine, Kenobi.” The words are husky, coated in lust. “You've always been mine. There's no escaping that."

The words soothe a dark, secret part of him. The part of him hurt when he had to plead Qui-Gon repeatedly to take him as his Padawan; the part that waited for Satine to ask him to leave the Order, too uncertain he was wanted to leave on his own.

Still, that part is not the sum of the man once known as Obi-Wan Kenobi. A greater part of him, at this moment, is annoyed by the arousal beginning to flood through him.

The teasing hand moves away, ignoring the growing bulge in his pants. Obi-Wan bites back a frustrated groan. That would be, quite literally, playing into Maul’s hands.

Enough. He has been through an emotional wringer today, and it is still only morning, if barely.

“So neither of us have any doubts,” he says, tone rough. “That’s good.” He ignores the urge to pull away, the voice of reason telling him to run. He feels how the grip on his chin has slackened, allowing him to break free. 

He leans forward and claims Maul’s lips in a kiss. Firmly, resolutely, without succumbing to brutality.

He can’t quite hold back a smile when he catches a soft whine, though Maul quickly smothers it down. His tongue teases Maul’s lips and they part, welcoming him inside. Warm, tattooed hands settle on his back, and Obi-Wan allows himself to arch into the touch.

His hands reach up for Maul’s face, moving past his cheeks, fingers teasing the base of the horns closest to his ears. Though a sound or shudder doesn’t escape Maul, the hands on his back grip harder and pull him ever closer. Lips suck lightly on his tongue. Obi-Wan thinks of event horizons and black holes, drawing starships past the point of no return and consuming them.

He’s the one to break the kiss, gulping down air. Maul is similarly panting, his golden eyes wide but his features otherwise stoic. It adds up to a slight air of bewilderment.

Obi-Wan supposes he did pull quite the unexpected move. He cocks his head a few degrees and raises his eyebrows at Maul.

“Now, shall we call for breakfast?” His voice drops again to a purr. “Or am I enough of a feast for you?”

Maul takes a few seconds to regain his composure and breath. The smirk reclaims his face, with a crazed, feral edge.

“You’ve already thrown off of the rest of my schedule today. I think breakfast can wait a little longer.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, even as hints of a smile linger around his lips. “I ask only that you don’t body slam me onto our table. Aside from questions of cleanliness, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

The smirk grows, hands resettling on Obi-Wan’s hips. Dark pupils expand to consume golden irises. “Duly noted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mantra “People are more than the worst thing they've done, and more than the worst thing done to them” comes from the Master and Apprentice novel by Claudia Gray and is something Qui-Gon repeatedly stressed to Obi-Wan, according to the narration. I absolutely want that tidbit to get hijacked by people who ship Obi-Wan and his enemies.
> 
> Mostly happy with this one, though I've also looked at it so much I'm kind of sick of it. Started with me thinking how strange it is Satine gets so little mention in Obimaul fics, compared to other pairings I've shipped where Person A killed someone Person B loved... and kind of challenging myself to do something about it. Not sure I did a good job as I wanted to, but *shrugs*.
> 
> So, might be a while until the next chapter, since the auction story has a lot of notes for it... here's a rough sneak peek...
> 
> _Hondo held his blade aloft. “This lightsaber was his life. He would only leave it with me if he valued my life more.” He twirled the blade in his hand before lowering it. “I also valued my life, so I accepted it. That was the last time I saw him.”  
>  Hondo draws out the moment before speaking again. “I… was Kenobi’s secret lover!”  
> The glass almost slips from Obi-Wan’s hand. Maul draws in a sudden breath beside him. The crowd around them breaks out into a chattery buzz, eager for more details.  
> _  
> If you want to read something else in the meantime, I wrote an obimaul one-shot completely separate from this AU that I may continue. It has Inquisitor Obi-Wan! And unresolved tension! (shameless self promotion ends)


	2. In Love I've Always Been a Mercenary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Obi-Wan had first sent the items off to Hondo, he had thought they would have been collected by a trusted lieutenant. Surely Maul had better things to do than attend a simple auction. Surely Maul would not drag his Kenobi stand-in along for the ride.
> 
> He had not thought of Maul wanting to see to this personally. He should have. He really, really should have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is this so long? Why? I blame Hondo's chatty nature. Also, rating has now jumped up to an M because I’m overly cautious.
> 
> Still not beta-d, still dying like Fives here.

If there is one thing Obi-Wan could say about Hondo Ohnaka, it is that he never skimps when it comes to the quality of his spirits and liquors. Whether the occasion was a kidnapping, an attempt at blackmail, a negotiation, or a public auction, Hondo went all out.

Obi-Wan sips the Corellian whiskey the droid attendant had served him, enjoying its full-bodied flavor. There was a mellowy, buttery sweetness when it first hit the tongue, which was quickly overtaken but not overwhelmed by a spicy fire and a lingering bitter aftertaste. It is a pity he can only indulge in so much; he would need his wits about him when the auction started. 

The whiskey’s quality is a sharp contrast to the state of the docking bay he and the other auction’s attendees find themselves in. “Dingy” would perhaps be overstating it, as the few ships present and the dock itself all appear to be in good condition. But like so many other places that found themselves in the Empire’s grasp, the hanger had clearly seen better times. 

Maul is beside him, clad in a basic black gaberwool suit instead of his standard robes. The suit is a twin to the one Obi-Wan sports, the cut fuller in the back and sleeves for easier movement. A commlink bracelet encircled Maul’s wrist, though it wasn’t the accessory that completed his look.

Only the serving droids had dared to breach their personal bubble, offering refreshments that Maul continually refused. The other attendees had glanced at them with anything from curiosity to scorn to fear, but none of them dared to do more than look. They turned to others for introductions and small talk, giving him and Maul a wide berth.

Perhaps they understood the significance of the golden necklace around Maul’s throat, acting as a mate to the one around Obi-Wan’s neck. The necklace mimicking a golden sunrise, in honor of Crimson Dawn.

Or perhaps they were wary of Maul’s appearance and demeanor. Maul’s expression is too guarded for any of his true thoughts to be gleaned, but there is still something unsettled and aloof to him as he glances about, assessing the other patrons.

Though the auction should have been well underway by now, the improvised stage set up against the hanger’s wall remained empty. Hondo apparently believed lateness was a fashionable ideal. That, or the canny Weequay wanted to lower his customers’ inhibitions by plying them with large amounts of alcohol before making his appearance.

When Obi-Wan had first packed his possessions off to Hondo, it was with some vague thought that Maul would send a trusted lieutenant to collect them. Surely Maul had better things to do than attend a simple auction. Plus, his habits tended toward those of a loner. Why would he subject himself to the company of strangers, when he could avoid them entirely?

However, when word reached them that not only were Jedi artifacts being auctioned off, but that the items had been the former possessions of the great Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi… something sparked in Maul’s eyes. As if a fire had lit beneath his skin, urging him forward to action.

It was clear Maul wouldn’t leave this task in another person’s hands. 

Of course, that didn’t mean he had to take ‘Ben’ along… but Maul seemed to take it as a given that Obi-Wan would accompany him to the event. After all, why not bring his Kenobi stand-in along on the errand to complete his look?

Obi-Wan had tried to wriggle out of the event without arousing suspicion, but to no avail.

_ “A pirate is hosting this auction? Are you sure it’s safe to attend directly, instead of sending an intermediary?” Obi-Wan managed to keep his voice smooth, instead of giving in to the urge to verbally wring his hands. _

_ Maul’s lip curled back. “I’ve encountered this particular pirate before. He is of little consequence and no danger to us.” _

_ Oh, if Obi-Wan could only be so certain. But the greatest danger from Hondo would come not from his talent for violence, but from his run-on chatter and lack of tact.  _

_ The years had not been kind to Ben Kenobi, which masked his true self. However, Hondo had a discerning eye when he chose to exercise it. The last thing Obi-Wan needed was for him to cry, “Kenobi! My old friend!” at the sight of him. _

_ Maul huffed impatiently. “You are exuding fear, Kenobi.” _

_ “I am not—” _

_ “Do not deny it.” Golden eyes narrowed. “Do you doubt my ability to protect you from this pirate?” _

_ “No, it is not that.” Well, technically at least. Best not to mention how Hondo’s last victory over Maul could throw his capabilities into question. _

_ Now came the half-lie. “I suppose I simply wonder what use I would be in the worst-case situation. I would rather not be dead weight.” Or simply dead, if Maul discovered his deception.  _

_ Obi-Wan sighed before continuing. “But I also know I cannot let you face this alone.” _

_ His motives weren’t entirely altruistic. He would be better able to enact damage control if he was there, addressing problems as they arose, instead of trying to apply the bandages afterward when Maul returned. _

_ Maul’s arm reached out and brought him closer. His forehorn bumped against Obi-Wan’s forehead in a surprisingly gentle show of affection. Obi-Wan felt himself calming from the contact, almost against his will. _

_ “If the pirate makes a move toward you, it will be his last,” Maul promised with a grin that was not at all reassuring. _

_ Lovely, Hondo’s potential death would now hang over his head. The pirate was irksome but still quite likeable in his own way; Obi-Wan had no desire to watch him die at Maul’s hands. _

_ Still, he could not keep from saying honestly, “I won’t let anything hurt you either.” _

_ Obi-Wan couldn’t help but chuckle at how well Maul mimicked a peeved tooka’s expression, offended at the implication he would need protection, before he pulled Maul in for a kiss. _

After taking one last sip of his drink, Obi-Wan moves closer to Maul, gently resting his hand on his arm. Maul stills under the touch, turning away from his surveillance to grace Obi-Wan with a raised eye ridge.

“Uncomfortable around crowds, darling?” Obi-Wan drawls.

Maul scoffs. “Hardly.”

“Hmm, yet you’re not eager to be around them either,” Obi-Wan notes with a small smile. Maul doesn’t deny that assertion, for all that it was a distinction without a difference.

Obi-Wan supposes that if Maul isn’t directly or indirectly exploiting them, the Zabrak simply doesn’t know what to do with the average stranger. It seems to be a far more familiar, comfortable ground when the relationship was transactional in some way, such as underlings who jumped to do his bidding.

_ Or a hired escort providing companionship _ , Obi-Wan’s mind couldn’t help but add. His fingers twitch on Maul’s arm as he fights the urge to touch the necklace at his throat. He’s reached for it multiple times since Maul had presented it to him for this little trip.

Instead of completing the motion and fingering the necklace again, Obi-Wan leans his head against Maul’s shoulder in open affection. “Hopefully this pirate friend of yours will show up soon and we can get down to business.”

“He is not my  **_friend_ ** ,” Maul hisses even as his head tilts forward, his cheek coming to rest against the top of Obi-Wan’s head. He’s quick to pull away, however, as the tap-tap of striding boots makes themselves known. 

A hush falls over the crowd as Hondo Ohnaka finally makes his appearance, claiming the stage. Beside the stage, a droid attendant maneuvers a spotlight onto Hondo’s form.

Hondo’s hand moves to cover his eyes as he squints against the sudden glare. “Oww, that is very bright, do you mind turning that down?”

The droid complies, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help letting out a snort. Perhaps Hondo had indulged too much in his alcoholic offerings the previous evening.

The usual grin overtakes Hondo’s face as his hand falls away. “Thank you. Hondo Ohnaka will not be outshone by his own equipment.” He beams at the audience, and it truly is a bright thing to behold.

Still, the smile isn’t quite enough to distract from the signs that Hondo has come down in the world in the years since Obi-Wan last saw him. His outfit is simpler, free of the many baubles that decorated it during their dealings in the Clone Wars. And his facial horns are longer, resembling nothing so much as a beard left to grow wild, while his hair has grayed and been cut shorter.

All evidence that even Hondo’s charms are not immune to the grim ravages of time and Imperialism. But his hide looks cared for and his eyes are shiny and alert as he takes in his flock of guests.

“Ladies! Gentlemen! And those who fall outside or in-between!” he cries, his voice booming around the room through the use of a discreet personal microphone. “The great Hondo Ohnaka welcomes you to tonight’s mercantile proceedings!” Hondo bows deeply, while behind him more droids wheel out a few transparisteel cases. Obi-Wan can just make out his things on display.

“We have something special for you tonight,” Hondo continues as he straightens up, his forefinger extended above his head for emphasis. “For you see, in these cases sit the last few remaining relics of one of the great Jedi Generals.” He waves at one of the display cases, completely commanding the audience’s attention.

“You may have heard his name before, once broadcasted loudly and proudly throughout the galaxy. Now it is spoken only in whispers, when it is remembered at all.”

Hondo let the silence draw out and the suspense build.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi. That is the Jedi who brings us together today.” The Weequay brings his head back in a laugh. “He had other names, of course, many not fit to be uttered in such polite company!” 

An almost dreamy smile crosses his face before he continues, “The Negotiator, one half of the famous Jedi Team. Partner to the Hero With No Fear.”

Obi-Wan braces himself for Hondo to fondly, blindly reminiscence about Anakin. He has plenty of material upon, after all. The crowd would undoubtedly laugh at the time Hondo tied them up with Dooku.

However, it seems there is only so much that Hondo is willing to disassemble when profit is on the line. He clears his throat and pats a display case like a beloved, overfed pet, his gaze remaining on the audience. “But why do I have these precious artifacts? How can you be sure that they are real?” 

Obi-Wan fingers his empty glass, wondering what story Hondo is about to spin. Perhaps the Weequay would speak about how a dying Kenobi sought him out, before expiring in his arms. It seemed the sort of drama Hondo would like.

Hondo reaches in his overcoat, pulling out a familiar hilt. “I can assure you,” Hondo says, as he grips the lightsaber. The familiar blue blade of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber crackles into being. “That everything here is quite real.”

Obi-Wan hears a chorus of gasps. Even when the Jedi Order had numbered in the ten thousands and Jedi freely roamed the cosmos, seeing a lightsaber in action was a rare thing for many. To see when one now, when so many Jedi were gone…

With another practiced click from Hondo, the lightsaber switches off. “Oh, I never get tired of that,” he says with a grin. Instead of slipping the blade back into its holster, Hondo holds it aloft, clearly playing toward the crowd’s open fascination with it.

“This lightsaber was his life,” he continues. “He would only leave it with me if he valued my life more.” He twirls the blade in his hand before lowering it. “I also valued my life, so I accepted it. That was the last time I saw him.”

Hondo’s eyes fall closed. “My dearest, darling Kenobi, taken from me far too soon…”

Obi-Wan has a sudden, unshakeable bad feeling about what Hondo will say next.

Hondo’s eyes snap back open, fixing on the crowd with an almost feral intensity through his goggles. “I have kept silent on this matter for too long, out of consideration for his wishes. But I can bear the secrecy no more! I... was Kenobi’s secret lover!”

The empty glass almost slips from Obi-Wan’s hand. Maul draws in a sudden breath beside him. The crowd around them breaks out into a chattery buzz, eager for more details.

Hondo is more than willing to provide them. “Perhaps you have picked up one of the once-popular Jedi romances, now sadly contraband. Hondo Ohnaka is here to tell you that he lived it.” One hand flies to Hondo’s chest, while another stretches itself out in a parody of yearning. “The tension, the fleeting glances, the mixed signals and double… no,  _ triple _ innuendos…” His eyes mist over. “The emotional climax.”

Maul has gone utterly, worryingly still under his hand.

“Alas, while our love was quite fulfilling in many ways, and I will forever cherish the time I spent with him… such sentiments do not put food in my mouth or keep these old bones of mine warm at night.” Hondo sighs loudly, theatrically. “So it is with a heavy heart that I have come here to auction off the last of my dear Kenobi’s things.”

The elaborate fiction makes sense, is the worst of it. Obi-Wan would even find it humorous if part of his mind wasn’t occupied with how Hondo has just significantly reduced his chances of escaping this night alive.

“So!” Hondo claps his hands together, his facade of the grieving lover disappearing, replaced by the veneer of a roguish businessman. “Why waste time dwelling on the past when you can make something great of your present? Shall we start the bidding at, oh say, 250,000 credits for the lot?”

_ Now  _ Hondo was willing to trade in credits, Obi-Wan couldn’t stop himself from thinking with annoyed amusement.

Silence reigns for a moment, before a Keldar calls out, “100,000 credits for the lightsaber!”

“150,000!” a male Twi’lek shouts.

“ _ Carrion-eaters _ ,” Obi-Wan catches Maul muttering in Mando’a.

“No, no, I do not believe you understand how this auction operates,” Hondo says as he shakes his head. “I am not selling my precious Kenobi’s possessions piecemeal. To break up this collection… no, it is too heartbreaking!”

“What do we want with musty old robes?” a particularly inebriated Boosodian cries out, all twenty of their eyes glazed over. They hiccup, then add, “Give us the lightsaber!”

The severe expression on Hondo’s face reminds Obi-Wan this was a man who would threaten a struggling farm village if it meant making a profit. Though Hondo probably had no more interest than they did in his clothes and books, save as goods to be moved and sold, such talk kept him from making a full profit.

“How dare you disrespect the last remnants I have of my beloved Kenobi! No, I’m afraid it’s all of it for 500,000 credits now.” Hondo sticks out his tongue at the crowd. “Since you all insist on having no respect for the past.”

“One million credits. ”  Maul’s smooth voice breaks out across the room before anyone could protest Hondo’s price change. “For the items and to end this little farce.”

“Who said that?” Hondo calls out. “Come forward, please. My eyes, they are not what they used to be.”

Obi-Wan releases Maul’s arm, falling behind him as Maul strides forward. He spares a second to leave his empty glass with a passing serving droid.

When Maul stops before the stage Obi-Wan does as well, bowing his head forward. Partly to give an impression of a submissive attendant, but mostly to obscure his face from Hondo. 

He catches a thoughtful hum from Hondo. “And may I ask whose interests you represent?”

Maul sounds almost bored now. “Are you familiar with the Crimson Dawn and Black Sun syndicates?”

“Indeed I am.” A pleased grin splits Hondo’s face. “A scary man for the scary syndicates.” Hondo does not sound afraid in the slightest. His tone is jolly, even gleeful. “And what is your offer?”

“Doubling your asking price for the entire collection,” Maul enunciates slowly and clearly. “On the condition that I examine the items in question first, privately.”

Hondo’s voice is lightly teasing, “A shy boy, are we?”

A suppressed snarl. “I simply see no point in giving these  _ chakaars _ more of a show than what you’ve generously provided,  **pirate** , while I check the items’ authenticity.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan notices a few patrons sporting pinched faces and more than a few bodyguards smirking, recognizing the insult to their employers. Most, however, seem to miss that Maul just called them “grave-robbers” to their faces. With the added connotation of being thieving scumbags in general.

“But of course. I applaud a man of caution such as yourself.” Obi-Wan risks a glance upward and catches Hondo stroking his chin. “It is a very handsome offer. Almost as handsome as the couple Kenobi and I made.” Hondo indulges in a forlorn glance to the side as if dwelling upon a fond memory. He really is laying this on just a bit thick.

Hondo then looks expectedly at the rest of the onlookers. “Is there anyone else prepared to match that price?”

Obi-Wan didn’t have to look at Maul to _ feel _ his glare cowing the crowd, daring them to stand against him. Anyone remotely sensitive to the Force would feel the oppressive, smothering weight of the dark side.

Utter silence answers Hondo’s question. The pirate claps his hands again. “Very well then. That concludes our auction!” The tap-tap of boots resume as Hondo strides off the stage, calling out as he leaves, “Please, feel free to enjoy another drink or two before you depart!”

Obi-Wan straightens as, with a snap of Hondo’s fingers, the droids wheel away the transparisteel cases. There are scattered grumbles from the crowd, but Maul’s presence is enough to silence any thoughts of further protests.

Hondo crooks a finger at the two of them. “Do follow me. We can slip into somewhere more…  _ comfortable _ .”

The two of them follow Hondo away from the main area into a hallway. Hondo glances over his shoulder at them. “You seem familiar… we have met before, have we not?”

For a terrifying moment, Obi-Wan thinks Hondo is outing him. But then he realizes his gaze is on Maul.

“Yes… I remember now.” Hondo snaps his fingers. “You were slightly shorter and were running around on a set of swamp turkey legs.”

A rumble that’s not _ quite _ a growl escapes Maul. "And you swayed about like a foolish drunkard then," he retorts. "That has not changed about you."

Hondo dares to laugh again. "Ahh, that voice of yours sounds honey smooth. So much like a noble who I would ransom for a pile of credits.” He pauses. “A large pile of credits. Who could ever forget it?"

That actually seems to mollify Maul somewhat, though he still glares daggers at Hondo. Obi-Wan can't stop himself from rolling his eyes at both of their backs.

Brushing off the danger, Hondo sighs, his gaze reminiscing. “Ahh, there were so many maniacs with their red swords back then. Then they took over the galaxy and became much less entertaining .”

Hondo pauses in his steps to open the door to a private workroom. The furnishings are simple, a couple of durasteel tables with items scattered about on top. What catches Obi-Wan’s eye is a collection of bottles, many of them empty or less than half full. 

The transparisteel cases are up against one of the walls, unlocked and with their contents exposed for examination.

Hondo turns to Obi-Wan now, raking his eyes up and down his form. “And who is this vision of loveliness accompanying you?”

“Call me Ben,” Obi-Wan says, infusing his voice with more of a Rim accent. If Maul notices, he will simply claim caution around a dangerous pirate.

“Ahhh, Ben,” Hondo purrs as he grasps his hand. “Such a beautiful name,” he finishes, before pressing a kiss to the back of Obi-Wan’s hand.

An arm snakes around his waist, pulling him away from Hondo and pressing his back up against a familiar chest. Obi-Wan can well imagine how thunderous Maul’s expression must look at this moment, feeling its ripples in the Force like fingers running over his skin.

Hondo has the nerve to grin wider. “Oh, I quite understand. I would not let such a precious treasure out of my arm’s reach, either.” He laughs before gesturing to the open glass cases. “Speaking of precious treasures… as charming as your beau is, we had best get down to business. You can see for yourself that what I am selling is entirely genuine.” 

“I will be the judge of that,  **pirate** .”

“You know, you speak awfully low of piracy for someone who stole my crew,” Hondo lightly notes as Maul strides over to the case. He grabs a half-empty bottle and pours himself another glass, not bothering to offer either of them one.

Maul is quiet as he peers inside the cases. He almost seems lost in thought, lingering in his perusal and taking longer than needed to authenticate the items.

Finally, he speaks in a subdued voice, “They are genuine.” Obi-Wan notices a slight slump to his shoulders.

“But of course they are! Do you think I would sully the memory of my beloved Kenobi, may he rest in peace, by passing off some secondhand goods as his own?”

That is not a question Hondo wants an honest answer to, Obi-Wan reflects. Maul sends the Weequay a glare that captures his sentiment.

Hondo remains unphased. “Still, if you want to be certain you are getting your credits’ worth, perhaps your beau should try on the items.”

“Why would you suggest that?” Obi-Wan asks with an unnatural calm, drawing upon the Force for strength and guidance.

Maul’s eyes narrow. “Yes,  _ why _ ?” he drawls menacingly. Suspicion drips from his tone, as if this is somehow all a trap.

Hondo hasn’t been concerned in the slightest this evening and apparently, he’s not about to start now. “Bah, I met Kenobi. I remember well how that face looked. This Ben of yours could be his twin. You are not, what is the word… ahh, yes, you are not  **_subtle_ ** ,” Hondo says, his voice carefully pronouncing the unfamiliar concept. “Bringing him to an auction of Kenobi’s things.” 

He gives a shrug, “Powerful men, they often have strange or singular tastes. I should tell you sometime what Moff Jerjerrod does with a gwayo bird. He uses not just their feathers, but the entire bird!”

“Perhaps another time,” Obi-Wan says, watching as Maul’s eyes deliberately did not twitch. He does not want to know how Hondo has come by such information, if it is even true.

“Yes, perhaps it is not so important, though it is quite entertaining. What is important is that I am not here to judge! I am here to make a  _ profit _ .” Hondo stretches his arms out for emphasis, nearly knocking the bottle beside him over. “If it’s Kenobi’s looks that stirs your blood, Hondo will make sure he is providing you with only the most authentic Kenobi wear! You will have the best Kenobi copy in all of the galaxy!” 

Hondo’s usual businessman’s croon acquires an almost evil purr as he finishes, "So convincing you could almost swear you were with the real Kenobi."

At those last words, a deranged hunger enters Maul’s eyes. It turns Obi-Wan’s stomach to see it, and he guesses Maul’s next words before they are even spoken. “You may as well try one on…”

“Ahh,” his gaze darts to Hondo and back to Maul, trying to think of a way to decline. None comes to mind, but… “I’ll have to take my suit off.” I’ll have to undress in front of you and Hondo, he does not say.

Maul looks at Hondo, clearly reluctant to let him give the Weequay a peek at his flesh. Perhaps Maul’s jealousy and possessiveness would win out… but no. His eyes are on fire as he says, “Take the jacket and waistcoat off, leave the shirt and trousers on. That will be enough to judge the fit.”

The Weequay turns away from them to rummage through the display cases. “This one, perhaps?” Hondo says as he holds up one of his less worn robes. “My Kenobi looked especially dashing in this robe.” 

Maul all but yanks the robe out of Hondo’s hand, holding it close as Obi-Wan begins unbuttoning his jacket. Both of them are preoccupied as he pulls the jacket off; Maul’s focus is on glaring at Hondo, who is too busy pouring himself yet another glass to pay either of them any attention. 

As he slips out of the waistcoat, a memory stirs of a strangely similar yet all too different day...

_ The Besalisk’s upper two arms measured his shoulders with a holographic tape measure, while the lower arms circled around his waist. The tailor was quick to move onto Obi-Wan’s chest, his underarms, his hips, and the undersides of his legs, remaining silent while he worked.  _

_ Obi-Wan could see how his quiet professionalism would appeal to Maul, who preferred not to mince ‘useless’ words. But the quiet was enough to leave him marginally uncomfortable.  _

_ He glanced at Maul, who had remained in the room with them. “Are you sure you want to stay for this? I don’t mind your presence, but I may be here quite a while, and I know you have other duties to attend to.” _

_ “Nothing that cannot wait. I have my reasons for staying,” Maul answered, his tone faux mysterious. _

_ Obi-Wan held back a snort. Maul was likely indulging a fantasy of remaking the great Negotiator to his liking. _

_ “Ahh, you won’t pass on the chance to see me half nude and pliant,” he said instead. _

_ The surprised bark of laughter from Maul brought a small smile to Obi-Wan's face. Beside him, the Besalisk’s face was the picture of detached propriety, but there was an amused gleam in the tailor’s eyes that wasn’t there a few moments ago. _

_ After his fitting, they walked out of the small shop and into what passed for Corellia’s fresh air, rank as it was from Imperial shipyards and factories. Still, Obi-Wan relished the feel of wind upon his face after so many weeks in a space station. _

_ “Suits may be traditional,” he teased lightly as his arm twined with Maul’s, feeling the Zabrak’s steps slow to match his, “but can you imagine me in an evening gown? A red one, perhaps? With a bit of black lacing?” _

_ Golden eyes narrowed at him. Obi-Wan’s pretended not to notice as he continued, his tone innocent. _

_ “My wardrobe could do with some variety, after all.” He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against Maul’s ear. “I could even privately model the final product for you, to make sure it fits as it should.” He canted his head in mock thought. “Perhaps allow you to rip it off me if it displeases you.” _

_ Obi-Wan wasn’t surprised when Maul pushed him into the nearest alley for a lengthy kiss. Hands ran over all the spots the tailor had brushed over, reasserting Maul’s claim on him. _

_ "You're not having me here," Obi-Wan mumbled as hands slipped under his tunic, leading Maul to break their kiss and guide him out of the alley. The way back to the ship was a blur, though what had happened next was all too clear in his mind. _

Obi-Wan’s hand reaches for the necklace last, deciding he might as well take it off, but Maul’s voice cuts in before he completes the motion. “You can leave that on.”

_ When the suit was delivered and Obi-Wan had tried it on, Maul had looked him up and down, his gaze thoughtful. He had left the room for a moment and returned with something shiny in his grip. _

_ “You look… unfinished,” Maul said. “Wear this.” His hand held out the golden sunrise necklace Obi-Wan had seen adorning more than a few throats around the station. _

_ Obi-Wan had also observed the matching brands on their necks and wrists. The mark of a slave in all but name. _

_ “Thank you,” he managed as he took the necklace, thinking of the collars he wore on Bandomeer and Zygerria. _

_ He wound the necklace around his throat, catching its shine at the edges of his vision. Despite his misgivings, the necklace would make it clear who he was affiliated with and what the consequences of harming him would be.  _

_ Much like how slaves on Tatooine are left alone to avoid paying damage reparations, his mind unhelpfully supplied. _

The necklace bobs on his throat as he swallows a sudden lump. Maul’s eyes narrow as his hands move away from the necklace, obviously catching his discomfort. Still, he says nothing as he passes Obi-Wan his old robe.

He carefully makes a few deliberate fumbles, mumbling an, “Oh wait no, that catch goes here,” acting as if he’s never tried this robe on before. Yet all too soon, he’s fastened up, looking very much the part of a Jedi Master.

“And of course, the finishing touch,” Hondo says as he walks over. “Where would a Jedi be without his lightsaber?” Hondo presses his lightsaber into his hand, leaving Obi-Wan with no choice but to take it.

He feels the familiar hum of the crystal as his hand tightens around it. He could almost read joy at their reunion into that sound.

Joy is certainly not what he could read into Maul’s face at the moment. His expression has gone horribly blank, his eyes glazing ever so slightly over. 

Obi-Wan feels sweat droplets breaking out on his skin, sweat that has nothing to do with the weight of his robes and the stifling air inside the room.

Hondo’s abrupt commentary does not help matters. “Oh, he is the spitting image of Kenobi, is he not?” A sniffle. “My eyes, I think they are becoming a bit teary.”

His thoughts racing, Obi-Wan ignores every warning ever given to him about lightsaber usage, holding the hilt up to his eye and staring down the shaft into its core. “So, how does this work anyway,” he asks, trying not to think of how the careless press of a button would result in a permanent head injury.

A tattooed hand enters his field of vision, pushing the saber’s hilt away from his face. “You’ll take out your eye if you wield it like that,” Maul says, a hint of amusement snaking into his voice. 

“It would be truly tragic if anything were to mar that face, would it not be?" Hondo asks, his eyes completely dry. Maul shoots him another glare, his hand resting around Obi-Wan’s wrist.

Mau’s hand slips away to press a button on his commlink bracelet. “A droid will be along with your credits shortly.”

Hondo claps his hands together. “Wonderful! A few drinks while we wait?” He didn’t wait for them to answer, reaching into a crate to pull out another bottle. The label read ‘Whyren’s Reserve,’ the rarest of the rare when it came to Corellian whiskies. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but snort. Of course Hondo had kept the best back for himself.

Hondo meets his eyes with a grin. “For friends, I do not skimp. And we are all friends now, no?” He pours the whiskey into three glasses. “Normally it is my rule to not indulge with clients until our business has concluded, but rules…” He shakes his head with a smile. “They are made for the breaking.”

Obi-Wan pointedly did not glance at the bottle Hondo had finished while they had examined the items. Instead, he reaches for the glass closest to him, taking a sip. The taste is rapturous, and Obi-Wan let his eyes fall closed in pleasure.

“Now, we agreed on two million credits, did we not?” Hondo asks, sipping his glass with a smile on his face.

“No, we did not,” Maul returns coolly, ignoring the proffered drink.

“Ahh, my apologies. My old age, it is getting to my head.” Hondo gives a demonstrative smack against his helmet. Then he notices Maul’s untouched glass. “Please, drink up. I assure you, it is not poisoned.” 

Hondo’s next laugh has a nastier edge to it than previous ones. “Oh, I admit in my younger days I might have tried drugging your drinks and ransoming you back to the syndicate. But I am older now, and well, that means I am too old for that now.”

Maul still did not reach for his glass. “It is not to my taste.”

Hondo recoils as if Maul has slapped him. “Then you have no taste!” Another sip and an appreciative hum before he darts a glance at Obi-Wan. “Well, I suppose your beau is proof you have some taste,” he amends, reaching out for Maul’s neglected glass.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan manages with a small smile as he takes another sip. If he can’t curb Hondo’s behavior, then he may as well enjoy his antics.

“You are welcome, my dear Ben,” Hondo says gravely, raising Maul’s reclaimed drink to his lips.

Maul spares an annoyed look at Obi-Wan before returning his attention to Hondo. “Tell me about him.”

“Who, your beau? You brought Ben with you. I think you are the one more qualified to tell me about him."

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he says, voice dropping to seething growl. “Tell me about him.”

“Ahhh,  _ him _ .” A rakish grin cavorts across Hondo’s face. “Oh, he was quite the screamer.”

There was a surge within the surrounding Force, the telltale sign of a creature moving in to kill. Obi-Wan could not tell if it sprang from him or Maul.

“And he was almost too beautiful for his own good,” Hondo continues shamelessly. “You remember how it was, do you not? To look at his face and almost be unable to look away?”

Maul says nothing, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Obi-Wan wouldn’t be surprised if Hondo’s sheer audacity has rendered him speechless.

“That was my Kenobi, always turning heads. And always ready to turn his hands around heads.” Hondo’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, as if imparting a deep secret. “He was  _ exceptionally _ good at that.”

This is rapidly progressing from flattering to disturbing, Obi-Wan reflects as he takes another sip. Honestly, the only way Hondo could more thoroughly court death would be by throwing roses at the specter of doom looming over him.

“Ahh, so many sweet memories.” Hondo takes another drink, as if this is a gossipy night out at the bar with friends. “Did I tell you how all of my crew wanted a turn at Kenobi, so beautiful and talented was he? And how my Jedi was intrigued by the idea?” Hondo laughs boisterously. “What can I say? I’m a generous man when it comes to my crew.”

Obi-Wan can’t bite his tongue any longer. “Are you saying you passed around Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi like a bottle of cheap Corellia ale?” The almost-hysterical disbelief drips from his tone; were it tangible, it would coat the floor.

Hondo winks. “At his behest, yes!” He taps his glass thoughtfully. “Although, I would not do him the disservice of comparing him to  _ cheap  _ Corellia ale. No, Kenobi was made of nothing less than top-shelf stuff.”

Obi-Wan struggles to hold back a laugh at the absurdity of the situation, discussing his made-up sexual preferences and talents with a man lying about being his devoted lover, in front of the Zabrak who has a stronger claim to that title.

Instead, he calls upon the Force to calm himself, running through mental exercises he was taught as a youngling to order his mind. This is likely not what his earlier masters envisioned when teaching him control, but the Jedi’s teachings were ever adaptable.

After bringing himself back under control, Obi-Wan finally darts a glance at Maul, curious and fearful how he’s taking all this. 

Maul almost looks bored at the details, his face a stoic mask. Obi-Wan silently thanks the Force, unsure how he would take it if the man showed more interest. “Surely your entire relationship wasn’t based solely on sex,” he drawls.

“There are worse things to build a relationship on,” Hondo says with a smirk.

Maul’s eyes narrow.

Hondo has not survived this long by ignoring implicit threats, despite what his behavior this evening suggests. “But eh, if you really want to hear the boring details.” He leans back, his eyes drifting upward. “Do you want to hear how his hair would look in the morning? The way parts of it would catch light and look almost gold?” 

A fond smile plays about Hondo’s lips, as if he truly is remembering the sight of waking up to his lover. “How he would laugh when I said something especially clever? Which means he was laughing at least ten... no, twenty times an hour! Or the lectures he could give on goodness and morality, almost enough to shame a pirate?” 

Hondo’s eyes return to Maul’s face. “I could reminisce about him all day, so what would you like to know?”

For a second, Maul’s face has a look similar to when Obi-Wan cut him in half. A loss too great to calculate in the moment, coupled with a dawning awareness that something was forever beyond your reach. Of falling, with it uncertain when or if you would hit rock bottom. 

Inappropriate as it is, the only fitting description Obi-Wan can think of is heartbreak.

Maul expels a harsh breath before regaining his neutral composure. It is still not fast enough to escape the notice of Hondo’s sharp eyes. “Oh ho. It seems there is a romantic under all that horns and anger.”

Maul’s teeth grit, his voice a soft growl. “Do not mock me,  **pirate** .”

“Mockery? For what, mourning Kenobi?” A scoff. “As if you are alone in that.”

Hondo refills his glass, swirling it thoughtfully before he continues. “I lost an entire week to drink when I heard of the Jedi’s demise. To this day, I cannot tell you what I did then. Only that I woke up with a royal hangover and wearing high heels.” A pause, as Hondo drew out the punchline. “And only high heels.”

“What did Kenobi see in you?” Maul says, his voice caught between a hiss and a jealous snarl. “An absolute buffoon of a rogue?”

Hondo shrugs, projecting a lack of concern. “Perhaps he enjoyed someone who made him laugh during the war. Attraction, love, they are often not easy to understand. But they bring a brightness to our lives.”

He gazes into his drink then, surprisingly slow to touch it. “With the sunset of the Jedi, it’s important we hang onto any scraps of brightness we find. For me, there is nothing brighter than a pile of shiny credits.” He glances at them. “But I know it is not so for everyone else.”

Hondo then downs his drink in one swift gulp. Obi-Wan has to admit, he’s impressed by how committed Hondo is to his story and how well he pulls it off.

Perhaps the is alcohol to blame for the next words that roll off Obi-Wan’s tongue, or the need to fill a heavy silence. “I believe you mentioned Maul stealing a pirate crew, Hondo. I confess myself curious as to how that all went down?”

Hondo’s melancholy disappears instantly. "Oh, that is quite the story and I would be happy to regale you with it!"

“ _ I _ will tell you that story later, if you wish to hear it,” Maul says, moving his gaze from Hondo to Obi-Wan.

“I’ll hold you to that, then,” he says, finishing his drink. Undoubtedly Maul will omit whatever facts do not paint him in a flatteringly terrifying light, but it will still be entertaining to hear.

A droid enters then, carrying a case of credits and sparing Obi-Wan from scrambling for another remotely suitable topic. Maul takes the case and hands it over to Hondo while the droid exits as swiftly as it entered.

Hondo cracks the case open, his eyes gleaming as he takes in the credits. Then he snaps it closed. “Well, everything seems to be in order. You can head back to your ship while I box up your items. I'll send a delivery droid over shortly.”

“Why can I not take them now?” Maul sneers again. “You wouldn’t happen to be trying to cheat me out of my purchase, pirate?”

“No, no such thing. I would just… like a private moment to say goodbye.” Hondo gives a dramatic sniff. “It’s so hard…” Another sniff. “Parting with his things.”

“I can imagine,” Maul drawls, clearly uninterested in Hondo’s play for sympathy. “Then I shall leave you to imagine the consequences of what will happen if everything does not arrive as it should.”

Hondo waves them off. “Yes, yes, I promise not to cry on the merchandise.”

Maul looks as if he’s trying to swallow something unpleasant before he continues speaking, his voice level. “And should you happen to find any more Jedi artifacts, the Black Sun will pay well to take them off your hands.”

“Artifacts from any Jedi, or this one specifically?”

Maul scoffs. “Any Jedi, of course. Why should I care about this particular Jedi?”

Hondo meets Obi-Wan’s eyes as he says, “Why, indeed.” His tone is dryer than a typical day on Tatooine, before reclaiming its usual cheer. “Well, I won’t say no to an arrangement we can all profit from, especially since it will save me from having to set up another auction in the future. Oh, the fees they add on when you simply want to rent a space!” Hondo tsks as if he was above adding on unnecessary fees.

Obi-Wan dares to add on another offer. “And if you’re looking for more work in general, I know the Rebellion is interested in hiring outside talent.”

“Well, I am certainly talented, inside and out,” Hondo agrees, before shaking his head. “But the Rebellion… I do not know.”

“Just think about it.” He smiles at Hondo. “I know you’re capable of nobler things.”

“Of course you would say that,” Hondo murmurs, and shoos him out of the room before Obi-Wan can ask what he means by that statement.

* * *

An uneasy silence dominates their walk back to the ship. Obi-Wan trails behind Maul, trying to read his thoughts from the line of his shoulders and back muscles. A highly imperfect method, considering how well Maul’s body hides the standard tells. Even the Force feels subdued, echoing a quiet melancholy instead of the more rampant passions Obi-Wan is used to.

He ponders what he might say to break the silence, but he’s still thought of nothing suitable by the time they reach the ship and step inside. Shortly thereafter they’re notified of the droid’s arrival, and Maul lowers the ramp to the cargo hold. 

The space seems comically oversized as the humanoid droid steps inside, ferrying the package in its arms. It’s strange for Obi-Wan to look at it and realize how much of his life is wrapped up in that single box.

With a snap of Maul’s fingers, one of the ships’ droids steps forward and takes the package. The hungry look is back in Maul’s eyes, though duller now as if something has dampened the fire underneath his skin.

“Take that to my quarters,” Maul curtly orders the attending droid. The droid beeps and leaves to follow his command. 

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan offers to the courier droid. “I believe that’s all the service we require.” The droid gives a slight bow before it turns on its heel and exits the ship.

Obi-Wan follows Maul to their quarters, removing his jacket and waistcoat as they step inside. Maul will probably have him back in the robes soon enough, after all.

The sterile setup of the ship’s quarters is familiar, if still a far cry from homey. The droid knows Maul’s habits well enough to depart immediately after depositing the package on a table, leaving the two of them alone.

Even a well-made ship like Maul’s is never completely quiet, but Obi-Wan is only tangentially aware of their surroundings and the noises of the ship, narrowed as the world is to him, Maul, and the box with all his past life’s things. And Maul is utterly silent, enthralled by the package.

Strangely, Obi-Wan feels more like the intruder here instead of Maul, though the box is filled with his possessions. Aware he’s seeing something that should perhaps be private, as he catches a shadow of that hungry look lingering in Maul’s eyes.

“I’ll… just go double-check our flight plan with the ship’s droids, then,” he says, giving Maul a chance to be alone with the items and his thoughts. Trying to respect his space. 

He doesn’t even manage to take a full step before Maul’s arm has shot out, a hand closing around his wrist in a surprisingly gentle grip. “Stay.”

Even as he speaks the command, Maul still hasn’t torn his eyes away from the package. Obi-Wan watches as the fingers of Maul’s free hand curl and uncurl, as if deliberating between ripping the box open.

The sound of Obi-Wan’s heartbeat fills his ears, waiting for Maul to move forward and unbox his things, to dress “Ben” up in the Jedi robes and immerse himself in the fantasy of what he wants. Still, his pounding heart is not loud enough to drown out Maul’s sudden mutterings.

“He must have hated me. I have that at least. He died hating  _ me _ .” Maul’s voice strives for a victorious tone, but it lacks the needed security. Instead, he sounds not unlike a child clutching a comfort object close to his chest, afraid that someone much bigger will rip away what he holds dear.

He continues in a whisper. “But even that… he wouldn’t have hated me most of all, would he? Not more than the one who killed all his kind.” Maul trails off into silence again.

“Maul?” he ventures hesitantly, unsure what to ask or say. The grip on his wrist has not slackened, and Obi-Wan refuses to examine why he’s comforted by that. 

The silence stretches out until finally, Maul speaks again. His voice is still soft and Obi-Wan cranes his neck forward to better catch the words. “I’m well aware how pathetic this is. Pretending at something that was never mine.” A shuddering breath. “But if this is as close as I can get...”

A dry, unhappy chuckle, then Maul turns to look at him. Golden eyes wander his face in a haze of longing, disbelief, and despair. “You really do look like him.”

The eyes that meet Obi-Wan’s reflect the sudden disparity of feeling that comes with realizing you’re not as important to someone as they are to you. The chasm between what is real and what is wanted. Grief echoes in the Force with a strange serrated edge, mourning not what has been lost but what never was.

Maul’s free hand reaches up to stroke his face. Obi-Wan’s eyes fall closed as he leans into it. 

He feels a temptation, not unlike the lure of the dark side, to tell Maul the truth. What is a chasm, after all, if not something to be bridged?

It would be as simple as three words. “I am him.”

The memory of Luke’s small face, though, stills his tongue. Luke depends on Maul’s goodwill, something Obi-Wan would have once thought a contradiction in terms. He can imagine Maul’s sorrowful face morphing all too quickly into his familiar mask of anger upon hearing the truth. What if he takes that rage out on Luke, instead of Obi-Wan?

Even if Maul did take his confession in stride, even if his feelings remained unchanged… what of his own feelings and what Maul would want to draw out of him? He doesn’t…. He’s not…

There are three other words that would not be so simple to say. Even if they would be true, and he’s not certain they would be.

Maul’s hand is still stroking his cheek, a far-off look in his eyes. There’s too much to say and too little. Instead of speaking, Obi-Wan leans his head forward. Maul realizes his intentions and moves to meet him halfway, their lips locking in a kiss.

The kiss isn’t quite gentle but it might be the closest they’ve come yet. It’s not the fight other kisses have been, but still Maul is as demanding as ever. Dry lips move against Obi-Wan’s, his ears catching a low whine as he parts his lips. 

Maul’s hand leaves his face and brushes through his hair, settling on the back of his neck, while the hand around his wrist tugs the rest of his body forward. His lips don’t let up their assault as he walks the two of them back to the bed. Obi-Wan follows, glad to leave the box behind him even as his mind questions how often that particular bed has served as a significant juncture point in his life.

They half fall onto the bed, though they still possess enough grace to avoid landing in an awkward heap. Obi-Wan finds himself on top of Maul’s legs and moves so he’s properly straddling the man’s lap.

Tattooed hands run over his shirt-clad upper half, leaving Maul growling in displeasure. “Remove this cumbersome barrier.” Though phrased like an order, Obi-Wan catches the needy edge that falls just short of a plaintive whine. 

He laughs weakly, still feeling lightheaded from their kisses. “Of course, I’m more than happy to take my shirt off for you.” His fingers fly over the shirt’s snaps; as soon as he finishes the last one, Maul pushes it off his shoulders.

Obi-Wan swallows as he’s caught in Maul’s heated gaze, the necklace bobbing around his throat. Hands roam his newly exposed skin as lips seize his own again. At some point Maul’s hands wander downward, fingers tugging at his trousers’ waistline in an unspoken question.

Obi-Wan breaks away long enough to murmur a soft, “Yes,” which is all the permission Maul needs. With one swift movement, he frees Obi-Wan of his trousers and underthings. Fingers dig into his ass cheeks, pulling him closer for a deeper kiss.

“Tell me you’ve never thought of anyone else like this,” Maul breathes as they break for air. He hears the desperation underpinning the command, hands gripping his hips as if he might jump up at any moment.

Obi-Wan’s voice sounds more playful than he actually feels. “Wouldn’t you prefer to hear how you’ve wiped out all traces of anyone who was before you?”

“... go on.” Did he really once consider Maul a loner? Obi-Wan is not sure he would attach the description to the Zabrak clinging to him and demanding affection.

“Whoever else there might have been before, there’s only you now.” A terrible truth, really, that a former enemy is one of the few people left in his life. He reaches out a hand and traces a circle around one of Maul’s horns.

A surprisingly contented sigh escapes Maul as he brings Obi-Wan closer, breathing in his scent. His hands abandon Obi-Wan’s hips to trail up his body, stroking over his back muscles. Though he’s never fully relaxed, Maul is as close as he comes to it, the tension from earlier all but melting away. 

Yet the words he’s been given are still not enough. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Obi-Wan says obediently. The statement rests uncomfortably on the line between the truth and a lie. He fingers the necklace self-consciously, watching Maul’s eyes track the movement.

“You look… exquisite in that,” Maul’s lips carefully form around the compliment as if he’s unsure how to give one. “In anything,” he adds with some haste. 

Thumbs circle Obi-Wan’s nipples, coaxing them to harden into little peaks. “And best of all in nothing?” The words escape him like a learned reflex.

Maul seems to sense how hollow the tease is, his voice cooling as he continues. “You dislike the necklace, however.” His hands travel further upward to play with said necklace, fingers running over the polished metal.

An automatic denial is on the edge of Obi-Wan’s tongue. It doesn’t pass his lips.

“I’m not one for jewelry,” Obi-Wan says instead, aiming for a neutral tone.

“Is that all?” Maul’s hands move around his neck, fingers brushing over his skin in a half caress. Obi-Wan hears a slight “clink” as the clasp is released.

He watches as Maul pulls the necklace away, the metal gleaming in the ship’s artificial light. Disappointment and something far more molten, akin to resentment or anger, shines in Maul’s eyes. He’s unsure if the anger is directed outward at ‘Ben’ or inward at Maul, but it’s enough to prompt an explanation.

The words tumble out of him in their haste to be spoken. “It reminds me of a slave collar.”

Maul’s finger clench around the necklace. “Who dared—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he answers wearily. “They’re all dead now.”

Maul’s face clearly expresses his unsatisfied rage, but he manages to growl out a “Good.” The necklace is set on the protruding shelf by their bed that serves as a nightstand. Tattooed hands reclaim his body, bringing him to rest almost flush against Maul’s chest.

Maul rests his head against the side of Obi-Wan’s neck. “Was that all?” he breathes against warm skin. “You appeared, hmm…  _ discontented _ when you tried on the robe?”

Lips press a light kiss against his neck. The tender gesture seems… almost apologetic. “Did the pirate’s presence make you uncomfortable?”

“Ahh, no. I... wasn't that uncomfortable," he hedges. "I could have asked him to leave the room." He shrugs awkwardly in Maul’s hold. "Besides, he wasn't watching anyway."

"I could have cut him down where he stood if he had," Maul mutters darkly. One of Maul’s hands moves to hold his head, weaving into his hair and guiding him to expose more of his neck.

"I am rather glad you didn't," he says, bending with Maul’s grip. More kisses are pressed against the side of his neck, his body growing more flushed from the gentle contact. 

Maul’s tongue darts out to lick a stripe up the side of his neck. “ _ Mine _ .”

An unwanted shudder travels up Obi-Wan’s spine. It all feels nice, but an empty exhaustion has built up behind his eyes. He’s just not in the mood for where these kisses and caresses will inevitably lead under Maul’s direction.

“Stop,” he says, firmly though not loudly. “Please.”

It’s enough. Maul pulls away, though with clear reluctance. He can see the cast of disappointment in his eyes, the thwarted desire. Excuses race through Obi-Wan’s mind, but he doesn’t have to give any. “No,” is a complete sentence, he reminds himself.

“I apologize, but I don’t feel up for more tonight,” he hears his voice saying as he moves off of Maul. “Would it be all right if we just go to bed? It’s been a long day for us, and I don’t think your pirate friend would risk the consequences of cheating us.” He rather hopes Hondo is smart enough to not risk an entire syndicate’s wrath.

Maul’s eyes rove his body, but he makes no move to resume their activities. “... very well.” He turns away as he moves out of bed, the glint of longing Obi-Wan caught in his eyes already suppressed.

The overhead lights dim as Obi-Wan lies down with a sigh. His ears catch a swish of fabric as Maul removes his suit. The bed shifts under his weight as he returns, stretching out beside Obi-Wan. His arms wrap around Obi-Wan in the dark. “Is this acceptable?”

The heat of the embrace is nice. The memories of his years of loneliness haven’t quite faded away, after all. “Yes, Maul. This is… more than acceptable.” 

Though his eyes slip closed, Obi-Wan’s not quite ready to fall asleep. “I believe I was promised the story of how you stole a pirate’s crew.” A wry grin twists across his face. "I assume it involves Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

In all his years on Tatooine, Ben Kenobi had not felt like a separate person. But now, forcibly separated from Obi-Wan, he is taking on a life of his own.

“...eventually,” Maul admits with some reluctance. “But he’s far from being the focus of our tale.”

“Hmm, I’m sure your friend Hondo would insist he is the true focus.”

“Hush, I am telling this story. Not that halfwit pirate.”

“Oh, I am certain his storytelling skills pale next to yours.” His eyes remain shut, but he can sense the unimpressed look Maul shoots him. He quiets, and Maul clears his throat before beginning.

“There is only so much in this galaxy that one can accomplish on one’s own... So, my brother and I…” Maul pauses, a brief flash of pain flickering through the surrounding Force before continuing, “set out to recruit some…  _ helpers _ . It was not my first encounter with pirates, and I knew what to expect. Their greed would blind them to the simplest of traps…”

* * *

They are still in hyperspace when Obi-Wan’s eyes blink open the next morning. His last vague memory is Maul recounting Hondo’s dramatics once the pirate was informed of his lieutenants’ betrayal. He must have drifted off soon after, listening to Maul’s voice.

Surprisingly, Maul is still asleep, one hand resting on Obi-Wan’s bicep. Normally it’s the other way around, with Maul wide awake and dressed by the time Obi-Wan rejoins the waking world.

Obi-Wan takes advantage of the rare opportunity to watch Maul unobserved. Even in sleep, Maul is unnervingly still and silent, his lips parted just enough to draw breath easier. His presence in the Force is relaxed and relatively unguarded, though, as he slumbers peacefully, his mind untroubled by waking concerns.

How long he spends watching him, Obi-Wan doesn’t know. Eventually, though, the demands of his bladder grow too loud to ignore without drawing on the Force.

He disentangles his limbs from their sheets and gently slips his arm out from under Maul’s grasp. A soft whine escapes Maul when he moves away, as if mourning his loss.

Obi-Wan’s hand automatically reaches out to soothe him, but he aborts the motion halfway, pulling back before making contact with Maul’s skin. No, it wouldn’t do to jolt Maul out of sleep, especially since it wouldn’t surprise him if Maul’s subconscious would mistake the touch for an attack; he doubts there is ever a conscious moment where Maul fully relaxes his guard.

When he leaves the fresher, he considers the discarded clothes that lie scattered on the floor. He tsks, not moving to pick up them up or put his shirt or trousers back on.

A few spare outfits of his are packed away in a wall compartment, but he ignores them for now and instead opens the neglected package. There’s a hiss of escaping air as he breaks the vacuum seal, but a quick glance at Maul proves the sound wasn’t enough to disturb his rest.

He reaches inside the crate, gently pushing aside the lightsaber on top. The kyber gives a contented hum, not unlike the snoozing figure behind him. He feels the fabric of the robes between his fingers, but he feels no more urge to put one on than he does his dirty suit. He reaches down into the bottom of the box, pushing aside his other belongings to draw out his copy of the Jedi Path.

The flimsi book is thin in his hands but packed with so much meaning. It was passed down from Qui-Gon Jinn to him, as Dooku had passed it to him and as Yoda had passed it to Dooku. In turn, he had passed it down to Anakin, who had passed it to Ahsoka. Later, as the war grew more complicated, Anakin had returned it to him for safekeeping. He wonders, not for the first time, if it might have all gone differently had the book remained in Anakin’s possession.

But, no. Anakin’s choices had been his own. If Anakin had grown deaf enough to the voices of his loved ones to commit the atrocities he had, then simple words on a page would not have swayed him from his chosen path.

Now, Obi-Wan finds himself in need of the book’s guidance and comfort. Even if he knew all the words, it was soothing to reread it.  He cracks open the book and begins scanning the first lines, but his familiarity with the pages causes him to almost immediately realize something is off. 

Lifting the first page slightly, he notices pinpricks above some of the Aurabesh letters. It reminds him of some of the simpler codes he learned as a youth, used to pass on encrypted messages to his creche mates.

(Not that Master Yoda lacked the intelligence to figure out their simple code. Undoubtedly, he could have easily decoded their messages. However, Master Yoda was also wise enough to know when to let children be children).

Flipping through the first few pages, he puts together the opening line of  _ keNoBi my Old fRiend _ . He scans through the book’s text for more pinholes, mentally inserting the punctuation that Hondo did not bother including:

_ Kenobi, my old friend, _

_ You’re alive! I was pleased when I first heard from you, and even more pleased to be presented with an opportunity for profit! _

A grin tugs at Obi-Wan lips as he holds back laughter. Same old Hondo.

_ But I confess I was also hurt it took you so long to contact me. As if you doubt Hondo’s ability to keep a secret or understand the necessity of occasionally faking your death. After all, more than one dangerous woman has wanted to marry Hondo and wouldn’t take no for an answer! _

_ Speaking of which, quite the situation it seems you’ve gotten yourself into. I hope you know what you are doing, running a scam on such an angry, horny man. But what a stroke of brilliance, getting him to buy you back your things. So profitable! Hondo applauds you! You are an artist of cons, if also unfortunately burdened by the weight of being an honorable man. _

_ I meant what I said, we all stand to profit from this arrangement. Especially since you owe me so much for setting all this up for your benefit. The costs of booking a venue at such short notice, the drink expenses, the difficult customer fee I am obligated to add on for your significant other. _

_ How do I know he is significant, I can almost hear you ask. I have eyes, Kenobi, and I saw the look in yours when you watched that tattooed menace. I wish you well in your life, even if I do not understand what you see in him. I will also speak with your Rebellion people, though I make no promises of helping them! _

_ Expect my bill shortly - Hondo _

Obi-Wan leaned his head back, letting his eyes fall closed. An honorable man, Hondo called him. Yet it’s hard to deny that he does feel like the lowliest of scammers.

_ It’s for Luke _ , he reminds himself. And it almost feels true.

His head snaps forward as Maul’s body jerks awake with a small gasp. His eyes, still hazy with sleep, scan the room wildly. They freeze once they spot him, shoulders sagging in relief.

“Kenobi,” Maul sighs his family name like it’s something precious, something to hold close and wrap around him. Then his eyes fully take in his naked form, and a wicked gleam settles in his golden eyes as a smirk curls his lips.

“You’re a sight to wake up to,” he purrs.

“So I do look best of all in nothing.” He returns gamely, a flush rising to his face. The way Maul’s gaze is running over his body suggests he’s mapping out a strategy for later. Obi-Wan supposes they do have to pass the time in hyperspace somehow...

Still, why make it too easy? He affects a disappointed sigh. “Alas, it’s simply not safe to wander the ship in this state. I should dress properly to avoid any chance of injury.”

Instead of responding, Maul’s eyes move away from Obi-Wan’s body to consider the book he’s holding. “You were quick to start on that book,” he notes with seeming idleness.

“Tattooine was hardly a bastion for learning,” he says as he sets the book down. “I’m appreciating the chance to expand my horizons.”

“I can get you better books than ones filled with Jedi nonsense.” There’s a sulkiness to Maul’s tone that brings a slight smile to his face, even as he feels a pang at the insult to one of the few remaining pieces of his culture.

Despite his inconsiderate wording, Maul’s offer is a tempting one. There were so many novels and various scientific treatises he never had a chance to read, hectic as his life as Anakin’s master and Clone Wars general had been. He’d had the time in exile, but grabbing scintillating reading material hadn’t been a high priority when he fled Mustafar and every spare credit was put toward Luke’s betterment.

Then again, the deeper he digs into Maul’s finances, the more uneasy he is about where the money comes from. He thinks of the empty shelves he would like to fill with books and lets the dream go for now.

“Perhaps another time. Between the demands of the syndicate and the attentions of my lover, I find myself with little time to spend on a book.”

Obi-Wan stands up, brushing a quick kiss against Maul’s forehorn as he moves to pull a simple tunic and pants out of the wall compartment. Maul lets him pass, though there’s a glint in his eyes expressing how he barely resisted the urge to grab Kenobi and haul him closer.

“I do feel inspired now when it comes to lectures on goodness,” he teases as he pulls on the clothes. “Perhaps later I'll give one stirring enough to shame a crime lord?”

Maul huffs behind him. “You are quite prone to those, but I am not one for shame.” Obi-Wan’s ears catch a mild thud from Maul’s feet hitting the floor.

“Perhaps we should both practice, then. I go I’ll make us some caf, and when I return, I can read some passages to you.” Obi-Wan turns to see Maul has moved behind him, close enough to reach out and touch him. He tilts his head in mock-thought, a faux innocent expression stealing across his face. “Unless you have an alternative suggestion?”

Maul draws him in for another kiss, languid and almost a touch too warm but still entirely pleasant.

“Hmm, a compelling counterargument,” Obi-Wan manages when he’s released. “I’ll try to prepare a suitable rebuttal while I wait for the caf to brew.”

Caf is not his favorite, but he can stomach the taste well enough. Perhaps he should ask Maul to stock the ship with some of his favorite teas if he’s to become a regular feature of the man’s future trips.

As he leaves, Obi-Wan hears Maul muttering something that freezes his blood.

“Fool, allowing your thoughts to grow so muddled. It’s not him and it never will be.”

_ Remember Luke _ , he reminds himself as he continues forward, resisting the urge to turn back. The admonition is heavy enough to keep his tongue in check.

He finds not even fresh caf can warm his suddenly cold insides. Maul’s touch is a better distraction as he pushes Obi-Wan back onto the bed, eventually chasing anything but immediate sensations from his mind.

* * *

The evening of the auction is far from the last time he curses Hondo Ohnaka.

“What alerted you to my Force sensitivity?” he asks honestly, weeks later. “If I never noticed it before, what caught your attention?” An outright lie, but just one of a growing pile at this point.

“Our meeting with the pirate. For the briefest of moments… you shone in the Force.”

With the urge to kill Hondo, no doubt. Obi-Wan restrains a groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s probably clear that if the CW writers hadn’t resurrected Darth Maul, I would be passionately shipping Hondo/Obi-Wan. As is, it’s the fun side bitch to my dramatic and angsty OTP.
> 
> I also considered the potential for the chaotic dumpster fire that would be Hondo/Obi-Wan/Maul while writing this chapter. “It makes no sense,” my brain insists. “Compels me though,” it adds.
> 
> Seriously, Maul _"I love my grudges, I tend to them like little pets"_ with Hondo _"You betrayed me, but I'm not even mad"_ Ohnaka would be priceless.
> 
> Unsure when the next chapter will be, as it’s CC’s turn next and he’s been quite busy with real life stuff and other ships. I am hoping to maybe write other works in this verse in the meantime (smut with Obi-Wan in a gown…)
> 
> Since a lot of this chapter was heavy, I want to immortalize a few of our shitposts we've sent to each other about this AU:
> 
> Maul: I’ve only had Ben for a day, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this syndicate and then myself.  
> ‘Ben’: Thanks?
> 
> Talzin: my child is fine  
> Obi-Wan: your child has hired me to play the part of myself because he's so convinced I'm dead that I can't possibly be me and on top of that he feels the need to own and pay me because he can't believe anyone could genuinely just love him
> 
> Maul: Ben, I want you to pretend you love me.  
> ‘Ben’: But I do love you.  
> Maul: Excellent, you know your lines already.


End file.
